Chapter 30
Petula sobbed on Julian’s shoulder as Jefferson’s ashes were interred.
Statler remained tight-jawed and stoic, but Julian could see that the burial was affecting him, as well.
It was a truly sad occasion. The siblings would never know just how much Jefferson had matured. What they did have, was that in the end, he’d truly cared for them.
He was being laid to rest in Julian’s family’s private burial ground, which took up just under a quarter of an acre behind one of the huge lumber barns on the Sothard’s property.
The place had been used for family burials since the eighteen-hundreds, and Julian’s parents had kindly put it forth as an option to the Bothswait siblings, who had swiftly and without hesitation, accepted the generous offer.
And as the service got underway, Julian recalled the aftermath of the shooting.
The whole, terrible incident had been heartbreaking.
After the shooting, the police had arrived along with the coroner, and pronounced both Jefferson and Bradly, deceased. Bradly wouldn’t be missed, but Jefferson would.
An investigation into their deaths was underway, which was simple protocol. During that time, both Julian and Statler had been required to turn in their guns, but nobody had any doubts that the conclusions the police reached would completely vindicate them.
Julian’s arm had to be restitched, but other than that, he’d been okay.
He ached for Petula, knowing she would never be able to keep the ugliness she’d seen that day, out of her head.
But since then, she’d bravely and proactively reached out to the therapist who had helped her deal with all the other horrific things in her life, and had already been to see the woman, twice within the week.
Not so, Stater. Julian could tell the man was internalizing, and hoped something would arise to give him the closure he needed.
Julian looked out over the small cemetery that held all the headstones of his ancestors. He’d played here as a child. He’d never been afraid of ghosts, or those who had gone on before him, and he’d never encountered anything but peace while visiting the quiet spot.
Trask, who’d agreed to deliver the graveside eulogy today—after picking Statler and Petula’s brains for positive snippets of their sibling from their childhood—had done a beautiful job, and was just about to wrap things up with a final prayer.
Before he bowed his head, Julian looked around again, this time at those gathered.
His entire family had turned out. Statler and his crew were in attendance. And how special was it that Tex had flown in to also be part of the gathering.
The brilliant man and Petula had shared a long, special hug, and shortly thereafter, there had actually been a funny interlude, watching Sherbert fan-boy on Tex, while Tex attempted to shut him down.
There had been several other moments over the preceding days that had given the assemblage a chuckle, and Petula had said Jefferson would have wanted it that way.
She remembered her brother as being quick-witted, and fast with a smile before adolescence had thrown him into the hell of mental turmoil.
Julian closed his eyes and listened to the final prayer Trask delivered as Jefferson’s ultimate send-off.
His words were reassuring to the crowd.
Jefferson would end up in the right place.
Julian opened his eyes and joined in with a solemn, “amen” before turning to Petula.
“How are you holding up?” he asked with his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the farmhouse. He’d noted that her tears had finally dried up.
“Okay, now that it’s over,” she sighed. “I… I’m very sad that Jefferson didn’t have a chance to be with me and Statler again, but I know how proud he was of being able to protect me at the end.”
“I’ll always be thankful that he was there, too,” Julian told her sincerely, having no doubts that he would have liked the untroubled version of Jefferson if he’d gotten to meet him.
Petula was still talking. “I can’t thank your family enough for doing all this,” she expounded.
His people really had gone above and beyond.
Besides giving Jefferson space in the Sothard plot, and Trask agreeing to speak, Ellen—with Bobbie’s catering help—had put on a huge spread which was waiting for them in the farmhouse.
“Hey. You and Statler are family, now,” Julian responded to her previous praise with a squeeze. Nothing was official, since Julian hadn’t proposed to Petula yet, but he’d already let his family know that a ring was coming, soon.
Petula raised a brow at his impromptu words. “Huh. Are you trying to tell me something, Julian? Or should I say…ask?” She grinned.
Julian was more than pleased that he’d distracted her from her sorrow, and wasn’t afraid to answer. “Maybe I am asking something,” he teased.
“Then ask,” she responded with a hitch in her voice.
“Alright.” He wasn’t going to play this straight, but he’d still let her know what was on his mind. This off-the-cuff proposal would get the ball rolling. Buying her a ring would simply cement the deal.
“How do you feel about chocolate cake?” he prevaricated with a smile.
“Choc…?” Petula stumbled. “For what?” Her face was perplexed.
Julian bent to Petula’s height until they touched noses. “For a wedding,” he whispered, then added, “Ours, if you agree.”
Petula blinked at him, and this time the tears in her eyes were happy ones.
“I… I love chocolate cake,” she told him solemnly.
That was confirmation enough for Julian.
He turned her in his arms and kissed her deeply, despite being in the large group headed back to the house.
When whistles and catcalls flew around them like so many birds, he held up his bird. But the middle finger didn’t discourage a single one of them. The noise was raucous as they all made their way up the steps and into the house.
Julian was a happy man.
The first thing he did when they entered the living room and Petula was whisked away by his sisters-in-law and Sheila, was to seek out his mother in the kitchen and tell her the good news.
“Julian,” she huffed, after he’d explained. “That’s not a proper proposal.”
But he could tell she was pleased.
“I’ll do it up right in a few weeks,” he promised, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “After everything to do with the investigation into Bradly is over,” he added a little sourly.
“What about that despicable woman? That boss of Petula’s?” his mother clipped. She’d clearly been busy with funeral planning, and hadn’t been privy to any details.
“They’ve got her in jail, and after interviewing her, she showed no remorse, so she’s been denied bail,” Julian said with satisfaction.
As it turned out, Irma had confessed that she’d been more than willing to do the job of killing Petula herself, but Bradly had convinced her he needed the pleasure of that act, and thank god for his ego. If Irma had attempted to end Petula’s life, they might not have been aware enough to stop it.
Still, Julian was happy that at least someone would end up paying for the death of Jefferson, even if Irma were charged only as an accessory.
“Good. I hope they send her away for many years,” Ellen sniffed with conviction. “Now, go join the party, Jules. I have to put a few finishing touches on these enchiladas,” she told him, bending back to her task with a huge bag of cheese in her hand.
According to his mother, enchiladas could never have too much cheese.
“Okay, Mom,” Julian agreed easily, anxious to get back to Petula.
He left Ellen Sothard to her task.
“Hey, squirt.”
Julian’s brother Vincent had shown up yesterday He was taking a few weeks of his accumulated leave to decide whether he wanted to reup with the Navy, or if he wanted to join the new, company business.
The jury was out, but he seemed to be leaning into separating from the service.
He’d waylaid Julian just outside the kitchen door.
“Not a squirt any more, asshole,” Julian quipped, punching his arm. “I’d make mincemeat out of you these days in a fight…old man.”
Vincent was four years older than Julian, and absolutely didn’t like being reminded that he’d just turned forty.
“You could try,” Vincent chortled with a grimace, attempting to convince Julian he was ignoring the dig. “But hey.” He slapped Julian on the back. “I’m proud of you for saving the day and getting the girl.” He winked.
“You and me, both,” Julian chuckled, setting aside their sibling rivalry. “I had competent back-up, though, with Statler.”
“A good guy from what I can tell,” Vince allowed. “But I never did get the whole story of what went down. You want to fill me in? I know you were following Petula and got whacked with a tree, but how did you realize she was in trouble and that you had to go after her?”
Julian relived those few, horrifying minutes as he gave Vince the details.
“Once I was able to fight my way out of the car, it was easy to see the tree that hit me had been purposely cut,” he grimaced.
“There was no doubt in my mind it had been done by Petula’s stalker, so I quickly followed his tracks from the crushed area he’d made around the trunk, and eventually came across… ”
Julian would never forget his confusion as he’d popped out of the woods and seen Petula standing behind a man who was clearly Jefferson—from the picture Tex had sent him—while an unknown individual raised a gun and fired.
His heart had leapt into his throat when Jefferson went down, and he’d wanted to act. But at that point, he didn’t know who was the bad guy and who was the good guy. Julian had been hesitant to fire.
Even when Petula bent over Jefferson, crying, Julian didn’t know if her reaction was grief, or a release of tension.